


all that junk

by taxingme



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Borderline crack, Getting Together, Jealousy, M/M, Multi, Threesome - M/M/M, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-05-16 13:04:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19318771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taxingme/pseuds/taxingme
Summary: The ass slapping starts on Tuesday.ORMitch and Dylan keep slapping each other's ass. Connor's trying not to hate them for it.





	all that junk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mooresomore](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mooresomore/gifts).



> moorsesomore - i hope you like this!! this was such a fun thing to write and it's basically all from your prompt so hope it works for you!! this is.... not crack but also definitely crack at the same time in that it's kind of ridiculous. like i said, it was heaps of fun to write and i hope you have half as much fun reading it <3
> 
> title is from my humps because well. it's a fic about slapping ass

The ass slapping starts on Tuesday.

Connor is used to a little bit here and there – they all do it after all – but on Tuesday, it goes above and beyond the norm. Mitch and Dylan are on a butt slapping spree, specifically, with each other. Dylan benches above his normal weight and Mitch is right there with a butt tap; Mitch goes an extra mile and Dylan is right there to return the favour. And it goes like that all day. Besides that, they’re acting normal so Connor can’t put his thumb on what’s changed, why all of a sudden, they can’t keep their hands off one another. And then he sees them alone. 

They’re the only three leaving right now and they always use the back door. Connor forgot his wallet, so he went back for it and told them not to wait. And they’re not waiting for him but they’re still standing inside. Dylan is boxing Mitch in against the wall and their faces are so close they could be kissing, but Connor can’t tell from this far away. His stomach drops and Connor wants to look away, but he can’t. Dylan must say something because Mitch laughs – it’s bright and loud like it always is so Connor has no problems hearing it – before he lifts a hand off the wall to cup Dylan’s ass. Then Dylan is laughing, and Connor really can’t watch this anymore. He’d rather deal with the rabid hockey fans out the front of the gym rather than deal with whatever is happening right now. 

Since their mostly imaginary feud ended, Dylan and Mitch have been as close as anyone. Connor knows Dylan has vaguely thought about pushing for something more, but he also knows Dylan was too chicken to actually do anything about it. Looks like Mitch solved that problem for him. Connor wishes he wasn’t so bitter about it. 

***

They don’t stop on Wednesday. 

They’re obviously caught up in their new relationship (or whatever it is) and Connor doesn’t want to hate them for it but at the same time he can’t help waiting for them to stop. Every time he looks up from a rep or a machine, one of them is slapping the other’s ass. He tries not to watch them, tries not to let the sick feeling in his gut ruin his workout. But it’s impossible to concentrate. Mitch slapping Dylan’s ass is distracting; Dylan slapping Mitch’s ass is distracting. More than that though, it’s infuriating. Connor knows the offseason is a lot more relaxed, knows that this is really the only time the two of them will get to be together like this, but that doesn’t mean they should get to spend every second touching one another. It wouldn’t be so bad, but they never stop. Connor grits his teeth and goes back to his workout.

Summer can’t last forever. 

***

Thursday, they finally get to spend the morning on the ice. 

Connor’s joy is short lived because if he thought the two of them were bad in the gym it’s _nothing_ compared to how they are together on the ice. There’s not a moment between drills where they’re not touching. Specifically, hand on ass touching. Connor sucks in a deep breath, he can get over this. He skates the length of the ice to get away from them – muscles and blood pumping as he stretches and glides the 200 feet in what feels like a second – but when he turns around, he can still see them at the other end. They’re side by side, facing away from Connor, and they have one hand on the other’s ass. Connor fumes and leans into his next drill. He doesn’t care that they are fucking or dating or whatever. He’s honestly pretty happy for the two of them; he’s also glad that he doesn’t have to deal with the sexual tension that’s been floating between their friendship group since they all started hanging out together. He just wishes they would keep it off the ice. And out of the gym. And maybe away from anywhere that Connor can see them together.

It’s not until then that he realises: the sexual tension in their group isn’t going anywhere. 

***

On Friday, Connor doesn’t know how to act. 

The three of them are at a cute café that Mitch has been talking about for months – Connor supposes that knowing all the good places is one true benefit of playing in Toronto – and Mitch and Dylan are on one side of the table and Connor is on the other. He shifts nervously in his seat; he doesn’t know what to do with his hands or what to say. He’s holding so much tension and he has no idea how to let go of it, not with the two of them like this. Not now that he knows how he feels. Their hands are under the table and Connor’s positive they must be holding one another. He wonders how their fingers look tangled together and then he wonders if they hold hands while they – 

_Nope_ , he thinks forcefully, cutting the thought off before it can fully form. He shouldn’t be thinking about the two of them together, it’s weird and creepy without making it so much harder for himself. They are his friends and that’s how Connor is going to think about them. What they do, with their hands and their asses, has nothing to do with Connor. The two of them have made that abundantly clear. 

Lunch is fine except for all the times where Connor trails off midsentence or loses track of what Dylan and Mitch are talking about. He doesn’t mean to but it’s impossible for him to concentrate. As much as he doesn’t want to think about the them together, as much as he tells himself it’s no good, he can’t stop himself. The idea of them together is too intoxicating. He mumbles an excuse about not sleeping properly but he knows he’s annoying the both of them by being so vague. On the way out, Dylan ruffles Connor’s hair and says… something about stuff. Connor honestly has no idea. He’s too wrapped up in the sensation of Dylan’s hand – _the one that was holding Mitch’s hand_ – running through his overgrown half-curls. 

He is so unbelievably fucked. 

***

On Saturday, the three of them are back in the gym.

And Mitch and Dylan are back to the ass slapping. Yesterday was shitty in its own right but at least Connor didn’t see a single ass tap between the two of them. He sighs and resigns himself to dealing with it all day. He tries not to look too much but he can’t stop himself. Dylan has these long fingers and even a quick tap on Mitch’s ass looks proprietary and intimate and Mitch has the tendency to hold Dylan’s ass after a tap, digging in to quickly grope before moving on. And Connor’s not sure if they’re trying to keep the whole thing a secret but it’s definitely not working. Even if Connor hadn’t seen them in the hall the other day, he would still be able to tell. It’s not like they’re being subtle. 

Mitch plops down next to him on the bench. “You need someone to spot you?”

Connor makes a questioning noise. He vaguely heard what Mitch said but he was off in his own world. Mitch’s voice has dragged him out (another) daydream and Connor’s got no idea how long he’s been staring off into space, thinking about Mitch and Dylan together. 

“To spot you,” Mitch says, enunciating each word clearly and sarcastically. “Been such a space cadet these days, bro. Need to lift your game.”

Connor huffs out a laugh, wishing that Mitch would go back to Dylan. Or leave him alone at the very least. It’s hard enough concentrating on his workout without Mitch coming over to bother him but Mitch doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, not right now. Connor wonders If he anyone would notice if he went to a different gym for the rest of the summer. Or he could go back to Edmonton early. Maybe he could even get Drai to show him around Germany or something like that. People would talk but at least he wouldn’t be around Dylan and Mitch anymore. He’s honestly not sure how much longer he can handle the two of them like this. 

Neither of them moves. Connor should probably get up and start his next set and Mitch should do the same. But neither of them even looks like getting up. Mitch pats him on the thigh. Connor looks up at him, trying to keep his face neutral and not give away how good it feels to have Mitch touching him. 

“I don’t know what’s up with you this week, but you need to get it together. Dylan’s lowkey freaking out, thinks you’re ignoring him or something,” Mitch says with a gentle voice. “He’s probably wrong but don’t let him go full-Dylan. You know how he gets sometimes.”

“Right, yeah. Talk to Dylan, I can do that.”

And then he doesn’t, because Connor’s nothing if not a total chicken. 

***

Connor goes to the gym two hours early on Sunday.

He’s half awake and his body barely cooperates with him, two different trainers yell at him for not paying attention to his form, but at least there’s no Dylan or Mitch around. The place is empty except for Tavares and the two share a respectful nod before going back to their respective workouts. He tries to get out before anyone else turns up, but he doesn’t time it right and Dylan and Mitch walk in together as he’s finishing his last couple of reps on the squat rack. Connor sees Dylan’s face fall out of the corner of his eye. They all know that he does squats last. It’s only after he sees Dylan’s face that Connor realises how much of a dick he’s been this past week. He grunts out the last set and puts the bar back in place. The trainer pats his ass and Connor shakes it off before walking over to the two of them. 

“You guys got a second to chat?”

Dylan and Mitch share a look before agreeing. It would be cute how couple-y they are if it didn’t make Connor’s gut roll over. The two of them lead the way and Connor sees Tavares watching them from his position on the bike. Connor thanks everything he can think of that Tavares is the only one around right now, he’s the least likely to gossip in the whole league, and Connor really doesn’t need this going around. They find a secluded room that has some old equipment in it. There’s a couple of benches with fluff poking out of them and Connor takes one while the other two share one. He sighs, just another reminder of what they mean to one another. And what he means to them. He guesses he might as well get this over with. 

“Sorry I’ve been a dick,” he starts. He hesitates a moment before saying anything else before deciding it’ll be easier if he just rips the band-aid off. “I realised you two were together and was pissed you didn’t tell me.” 

They are silent for a beat before Dylan snorts. Connor feels his face pull in a weird way and Dylan meekly apologises. Mitch nudges Dylan with his elbow before speaking. “Sorry, he’s a dick, we all know that. But like, we’re not actually a couple and you’re the third guy this week.”

“Fourth. Matty’s gonna try and give you some kind of shovel talk next time he sees you.”

“Well, can you blame them? You guys have been all over each other. Like you’ve been slapping one another’s asses every two seconds.” They both make a _huh_ noise as it it’s a surprise. “How did you guys not notice?” He says incredulously. 

“Well,” Mitch says. “I mean we did, you know, mess around the other night,” – he and Dylan share a soft look that melts every awful feeling Connor’s felt the past week – “but it’s nothing official. And I seriously didn’t notice the ass thing.”

“Unbelievable. You two are _morons_.”

“Is this news?” Dylan quips. 

Mitch shoves him and they tussle for a second before all three of them lapse into silence. Connor has no idea what to say and it seems like the other two don’t either. And then – 

“Um, Davo, where you upset we didn’t tell you or like… was there something else wrong?” Dylan’s face is flushed, red spreading across his cheeks and down past his collar. Mitch is blushing too and Connor’s trying desperately hard not to get his hopes up but it’s hard. The two of them are looking at him like they want something. He lets himself think about it, just for a moment, what it would be like if they wanted him the same way. The three of them could be perfect together. Connor sucks in a deep breath and looks back up at them. He doesn’t say anything but something on his face must give him away.

“Fuckin’ _excellent_ man,” Mitch says, before leaning over and kissing Connor on the corner of his lips. He pulls away. “If you think we’d want to do this without you, you’re a fucking idiot.”

Connor makes a small noise before twisting his head so their lips can catch properly. Connor would be lying if he said he only started thinking about this in the past week. Mitch has lush lips that always look sticky and red because of his favourite Gatorade which means they almost always look kissable. This kiss is well worth the wait. Mitch knows what he’s doing, teasing his tongue along Connor’s lips before backing up and biting at it instead. It’s intoxicating and Connor can’t help letting out small noises as Mitch works his magic. 

“Alright, Marns, back it up. I’ve definitely been waiting longer for this.”

Connor pulls back from the kiss, already feeling dazed and overwhelmed and it was only one kiss. He turns towards Dylan, unconsciously leaning forward because Dylan’s right: they’ve been waiting a long time for this. Dylan kisses differently than Mitch, more desperate with less technique. It’s intense and romantic and roughly five years’ worth of kisses in one kiss. Dylan is making desperate noises into Connor’s mouth and it’s almost impossible to pull away from him. Eventually he does and he wonders why they’ve waited so long to do this. 

“Fuck, this is so hot,” Mitch says. Connor elbows him, self-conscious in a way that he wasn’t five seconds ago. “What? Don’t get pissy, it’s a compliment. Also, lucky you got your work out in early. We’re leaving right now.”

Connor wishes he was responsible enough to say no. “You’re right, we’ve waited long enough for this.”

**Author's Note:**

> i don't talk about fic on there but i'll add my tumblr after reveals :)


End file.
